


Lead Me Not Into Penn Station

by kaasknot



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Consensual Gangbang, Gay bathhouse, Light Dom/sub, Long live George Chauncey, M/M, Multi, Overstimulation, POV tops, Public Sex, Sloppy Seconds, Under-negotiated Kink, pre-serum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaasknot/pseuds/kaasknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He brought along his own jar of Vaseline, because what's offered by the Baths isn't always fresh; he cracks it open, now, and greases his fingers. Steve hikes up on his knees. Over his shoulder, Bucky tracks the men watching them, and his breath catches in anticipation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead Me Not Into Penn Station

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be an askbox prompt for rubyandhergingercat, but it dovetailed astonishingly well with stuff I was talking about with stoatsandwich so... Here, have a full fic instead.

They have a rainy-day fund tucked in a coffee can in Bucky's room. Whenever they have a few spare coins, or sometimes even a whole dollar on easy weeks, they bring it down and drop them in. Mostly it's for emergencies--like that time Bucky stepped on a nail and they had to pay for a tetanus shot, or when Steve threw a brick at Mike Earnshaw and broke Mr. Fenton's window, instead.

But they try, at least once a month or two, to muster the cash to go to the Penn Post Baths. 

Sure, it's not the finest establishment. Not the Lafayette, and sure as shit not the Ever-hard. But they can pay the fees without wiping out their reserve, and whenever they get sick of constantly having to hide, the Penn is always waiting.

Bucky leans back against the wall, Steve loose in his arms. To their right, a pudgy-looking guy's getting blown; he's noisy about it. Bucky ignores him. He drifts his fingers down Steve's back, toward his ass.

"You want to?" he asks.

Steve's relaxed, warm. The steam room is small, and Steve's lungs don't always cooperate with the moisture, but it's hotter than the blazes inside, and his hands have finally warmed up. Bucky'd fought off three other guys for this seat. He'd do it again in a heartbeat just for the way Steve drapes his arms over Bucky's shoulders and kisses him slow and deep.

Bucky's gone over Steve Rogers. He's known it for a while, now.

"Yeah," Steve murmurs in Bucky's ear. He arches his back into the press of Bucky's hands, urging him lower. "Open me up, Buck."

Bucky does. He brought along his own jar of Vaseline, because what's offered by the Baths isn't always fresh; he cracks it open, now, and greases his fingers. Steve hikes up on his knees. Over his shoulder, Bucky tracks the men watching them, and his breath catches in anticipation.

He trails his fingers down the top of Steve's ass, keeping his touch light and soft. He traces around the pucker of Steve's hole. Steve shudders, drawing closer; Bucky buries his nose in the hairs behind his ear. It's not often Steve gets pliant, but when he does--

He keeps it slow and lingering. The clutch of Steve's body around his fingers is velvet-soft and hot; Bucky pauses to slick up his fingers. Against his hip he can feel Steve's cock filling and lengthening. Steve pulls back; his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lashes beading up with moisture from the steam. Bucky gazes up at him. They stare at each other until Steve's loose and relaxed around his fingers; until the crick in Bucky's wrist gets uncomfortable. Bucky slips his fingers free and rests his hands on the swell of Steve's ass. Steve bites his lip, his long lashes fluttering.

Bucky spreads Steve's cheeks apart. They sit like that for a time, letting the room see his stretched-open hole. Steve's staring him in the eye, as though the rest of the room doesn't exist, and Bucky closes his eyes briefly against a surge of want. He grabs hold of his cock and tucks it up along the crease of Steve's ass. He glances over Steve's shoulder; there are more than a few guys watching, now. Bucky locks gazes with one, a younger, dark-haired man about their age. He's dragging hungry eyes over Steve, but there's a soft air about him that lowers Bucky's hackles. Bucky looks back to Steve. "Gonna fuck you, Stevie," he says. "You ready?"

"Do it," Steve says. He's trembling, pushing back against the hands spreading his ass wide, rocking down against Bucky's cock.

They stare at each other as Bucky pushes in, full in the view of the entire room. He feels Steve's cock twitch as the head of his own breaches tight muscle. Steve bears down, opening up for him as sweet as a man could want, and Bucky squeezes his handfuls of ass, pulling Steve farther down. He cranes up for a kiss; Steve whines, inaudible to all but Bucky.

Bucky doesn't last. He's been looking forward to this for days in advance; the warm, heavy weight of Steve in his arms, of the fist of his ass around his cock, God, the way he's _staring_ , it's more than he can handle. He shoots off embarrassingly quickly.

"Not yet," Steve whispers, when he shifts. "Stay a little longer."

He can't deny Steve Rogers a damn thing, least of all this. He stays, wincing at the restless squeeze of Steve's ass around his softening cock. A thread of come slips back out, tickling down Bucky's shaft. Steve sighs and kisses him again, tender and deep, but with a thread of tension behind it. He hasn't come, yet. Bucky feels a spreading smear of wetness against his stomach.

Eventually Steve eases off, sliding back on Bucky's thighs, and Bucky slips out of him. Bucky licks his lips. He knows this cue. He spreads Steve's ass once more, and he imagines how it looks to the voyeurs around them: pinkened, just a slight bit red and puffy, but above all, loose--and leaking Bucky's come. He finds the eyes of the dark-haired man he'd shared a look with earlier. The man cocks his head inquiringly; Bucky nods back, once. The man gets up from his seat on the bench and walks toward them. 

Bucky spreads Steve's cheeks a little farther, and Steve arches with a gasp. He's facing Bucky; he can't see the guy walking up behind him, or the surprised, hungry looks of the men around them. He watches Bucky's face, and when Bucky glances over his shoulder, he gives a little sigh of want.

Up close, the newcomer is curious and gentle. There's a hint of smug pride, no doubt from being chosen first; Bucky doesn't especially care. He's not ugly, and he doesn't look the type to hurt Steve. Bucky spreads his legs, the man hunkers down between them, and then Steve's arching back, hissing in pleasure. Bucky's struck dumb by the line of his neck. He doesn't know whether to drink in the sight of him or swoop in to taste. 

Each thrust sends Steve forward into Bucky's arms; they paint wet smears of sweat against each other. Bucky pulls away and lets the man hold Steve's hips. He runs his hands up Steve's sides instead, holding him steady, teasing his nipples with his thumbs. Steve shudders, and quiet as a mouse, spills over Bucky's stomach while speared on a stranger's cock.

The stranger gives a strangled moan, and then his thrusts go ragged, too. He lingers a few moments before patting Steve's hip, sharing a nod to Bucky, and pulling away. Steve sags in Bucky's arms.

There are a whole number of interested parties, now. Bucky looks them over for the next that catches his eye. When he finds him--a broad, red-headed man covered in freckles, he nods. The man shucks his towel and steps up behind Steve.

It goes on for hours, or perhaps minutes. Bucky doesn't keep track. He's fixed on Steve, on the minute noises he lets out, the shivers and slow blinking that are the only indications he gives of his opinion on the state of affairs. The guys stack up behind him, eager for their shot, and Bucky lets them, one by one.

At one point Steve buries his head in Bucky's neck, shuddering; he lets out a quiet keening noise. Bucky holds out a hand to stop the next guy. "Shh," he whispers, running a hand over the back of Steve's head. "You're fine. I'm here." Steve shakes in his arms. Bucky dips his hand down and runs the tips of his fingers over Steve's hole. He's warm, but not hot; he's impossibly slick with the juice of a dozen other men. Bucky checks his fingers: no blood. He presses his thumb against the puffy, slack edge, and Steve humps his hips back, his mouth open and gasping against Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky glances up at the man waiting. He looks half-dead with desire. "Stevie," Bucky murmurs into his ear. "There's a fella here, he wants to fuck you. You gonna let him?"

"God, please, I need more." His voice is soft and cracking.

Bucky lowers his hand and nods. He watches down Steve's back as the newest cock works into his ass, spreading it wide around the veiny shaft. Bucky's own leaks into the humid press between their bellies.

Several times hands reach out to touch them. Steve doesn't seem to notice, but Bucky pries them off and returns them to their owners each time, all without a word. It's not until a hand fists around Bucky's cock--and Bucky arches up into it despite himself--that Steve rouses. He's got his umpteenth guy plugging away behind him, but he has the awareness to grab the offending hand in a vise-grip and pull it away with a strongly-worded glare.

No more hands touch Bucky, after that. Bucky doesn't care; the fire in Steve's eye sends a coiling thrill through his belly.

Come starts dripping down Steve's thighs before long. Bucky watches it, watches it leak out of him, and imagines spreading Steve's thighs for his tongue. Imagines tasting that hot, sweet flesh, kissing and sucking him until he's clean and empty. He pulls Steve in close. "When we get home, Stevie," he murmurs into his ear. "When we're back in our apartment and you're so tired you can't even hold your head up, I'm gonna lay you out on our bed. And then you know what I'm gonna do?" He kisses a line up Steve's neck. "I'm gonna lick you clean, Stevie. I'm gonna suck that come right out of you, pal, and when I'm done it'll be like it never happened--except that you'll be so loose that when I fuck you again, you won't even be able to close up around me. You'll just lie there and take it, and my come will leak right back out of you."

Steve tenses up all through this speech, until Bucky feels the splatter of his orgasm against his sweat-slicked skin. He groans. "Buck, please..."

"Not yet," Bucky whispers back. "Gotta take a few more, Stevie, you can take more than this, I know you can." Steve whimpers.

It's two more, in fact, before Steve gives his signal. He sets his teeth against Bucky's shoulder and bites down when the last guy pushes in, and he whimpers and clutches to Bucky all the way through. When he pulls out Bucky waves the next guy off. He shakes his head. _He's done_ , he says without saying. He tucks Steve in close against his chest. "You've got one more to go," Bucky says to him. "Just one more cock, Stevie, and it's mine. You can take my cock again, can't you?"

"Yeah," Steve breathes against his neck.

"Thattaboy," Bucky says, and carefully, so as not to irritate Steve's pounded ass more than he has to, he slips in.

"Slip" is right. Steve is slippery, he's positively soaking, wet from dozens of loads. Globs of come squish out around him as he pushes in, dribbling down to his balls. Steve twitches around his shaft. Bucky doesn't so much thrust as rock against him, sliding through the mess of spunk while Steve shakes in his arms, and he knows it's got to hurt by now--he feels over-hot around his cock--but there's a certain part of Steve that Bucky sees in times like these, when he's been fucked raw or when he gets in a fight where the fists fall heavy and fast. Sometimes, Bucky thinks Steve likes it _most_ when it hurts.

He works a hand between them and grabs up Steve's cock, slick as the rest of them, and works it with sharp, quick pulls. Steve chokes against Bucky's throat. Three is about the most Bucky can wring from him in a single night, and sure enough, there's a pathetically small speckle of wetness over his fist. Bucky fucks him a little longer, clinging to his dignity while Steve spasms loosely around him, but the inevitable happens and he's jerking up into Steve's already dripping ass.

Steve's breathing is thready when Bucky checks back in. He tenses for a moment, listening--but no, it's the same shallow rasp he hears whenever Steve pushes himself too far. There's no sign of asthma, yet. He wraps his arms around him and just holds him for a while, stroking down his back and through his hair, until Steve's breathing eases.

"You ready to go?" Bucky asks, and Steve nods into his neck. "Alright." He stands, more or less carrying Steve with him. "Alley-oop."

There's a spontaneous round of applause when they rise, the men around them whistling and shouting their compliments. Steve buries his face against Bucky's chest, leaving Bucky with the dubious honor of hustling him to the showers with a blush so hot he's afraid his face will spontaneously combust. He leans Steve up against him as he turns on a tap.

Steve watches the milky swirls wash down his legs. "You really gonna lick all that out of me?" he asks.

Bucky starts. "Jesus," he groans. "You gonna hold a guy to what he says in the moment?"

Then he catches the sly gleam in Steve's tired eyes, and Bucky scowls at him. "You're awful salty for having been fucked to within an inch of you life," he says. "You need another couple dozen?"

"Nah," Steve says with a sleepy smile. "M'good."

Bucky grunts and starts washing them down.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://kaasknot.tumblr.com/post/109020094199/lead-me-not-into-penn-station). Wet wipes and lube are handed out at the door when you check in.


End file.
